Through Time & Space
by GetWithIt
Summary: What would happen if a young Tom Riddle came into contact with someone he was never meant to meet? (Not TomXOC romance)


Colors were swirling nauseatingly in front of me as I felt my body compress. All air rushed from my lungs and a high pitched whine filled my ears and on some level I knew I was dying –

_CRACK! _

My eyes swam as I tried in vain to muffle my pained gasp. '_Ow!' _I bit back a moan as the pain in my head intensified before settling into a dull throb.

I glared balefully at the brick overhang I'd slept under before I gathered myself and crawled out from underneath it. '_These nightmares will be the death of me!_'

Muttering darkly, I finally straightened to my full height and glanced around suspiciously to make sure I was still alone. Satisfied that my violent awakening and my subsequent attempt to concuss myself against the unforgiving bricks had failed to draw any unwanted attention, I darted out from the alley way onto the empty street to my left.

The sun had only just begun to rise and the filthy street was bathed in a gentle pink glow. I shook my head at the odd scene and started to make my way towards the small bakery I'd found one day previously.

Walking briskly I made two right turns and a left, working my way from the seedy area to an equally poor, but less dangerous, portion of the city. I grimaced as more and more people filled the streets.

I _hated _crowds.

With my head down I picked up my pace, eager to reach the bakery before the shopping district I was in became impossible to maneuver. As the bakery came into view ahead of me I wondered again if I was making a mistake.

I had stumbled into the same bakery I was headed towards now after a particularly discouraging confrontation. After a few days in an unfamiliar place with absolutely no idea how I got there, why I was there, or _who_ I was – I had been desperately in need of food, shelter, and most of all: _information_.

Of course, with those issues at hand, I'd quickly set about finding some form of work. I'd be able to at least eat with even the most simplistic, meager job. Many of my requests were met with either derision or suspicion, though I will admit the one that was by far the worst actually led to my position at the bakery.

I can't remember much from my first two days in London. I'd woken up to find myself lying on my back in the middle of some street. The vagrants still out at that time of night had been absolutely startled.

I remember seeing their wide eyes and feeling more emotion than any one person should be able to feel. The swirling feelings were so overwhelming I tore through the streets, desperate to find someplace dark, quiet – alone.

It was hours later that I realized I had no memories, no identity or past. All I had was a simple black dress that fell just below my knees and a silver necklace that hung from my neck.

Eventually I had passed out from exhaustion. When I awoke the second day I was just as confused and agitated. I spent the entire day crouched in the alley I had slept in, hissing at anyone or anything that dared approach me.

By the third day though, I could _think._ My mind and emotions had settled to an extent and I could examine my situation.

The first thing I determined was that while I had regained lucidity, any hints as to my past were still a mystery. The next thing I noticed was that I was hungry, dirty, and astonishingly thirsty.

Thankfully, I had the common sense and language skills to take care of my needs, even if I didn't remember how I'd gotten them. I entered a small store and told them I was lost. The man who owned the store was kind and had his daughter give me something to eat and drink. Once that was dealt with he said he'd contact the police so they could help me find my family. I was to sit and wait until the end of the work day when he could contact them.

Once I was no longer dying of thirst and hunger I decided that I would leave. Something inside me screamed out against being helpless at the hands of strangers. So I sneaked out and eventually made my way to the place where I'd spent the night before. I then made plans to avoid authority figures and take care of myself.

The next day I went about setting those plans in motion. I'd wandered until I reached a row of shops that looked as though they'd hire a poor girl off the streets and I'd promptly set about finding a job.

After being turned away from numerous establishments and traveling much farther than I'd ever expected I'd have to, I stumbled into a small building with 'Douglas' Tailoring' painted above the door.

I'd smoothed back my hair, thankful that I'd been to public facilities to sort out my appearance, and entered. A somewhat heavily built woman had approached straight away.

"What can I do for you dear?" She'd asked in a brusque, but polite tone.

Feeling a bit anxious I'd straightened my dress and tried to appear calm and collected. "I'm looking for work and would very much like to know whether you have any positions open. Should that not be the case, I'd be willing to accept pay for any informal or infrequent tasks however few they might be."

Though my past was enshrouded in darkness I must have gotten manners from somewhere. I was no fool. I knew that courtesy would get me far. The only reason I'd been rejected at all was because the previous businesses had no need for work, couldn't afford it, or didn't truly believe I needed it.

I didn't want to point out that I was homeless and knew absolutely no one, because that sort of vulnerability just felt wrong. Though I'd resolved to myself that if I was still without work after one more additional day, I'd find I policeman and have him turn me in to an orphanage.

The woman had altered her expression from impassive to confused, if the frown and creased brow were anything to go by. Well, I could also tell by the tangible waves of puzzlement she was emitting.

Just as she opened her mouth to answer another voice cut in, bringing my attention to a large man at the back of the room.

"Run away from mummy and daddy 'ave you? Even if I had work to give I wouldn't give it to the likes of you. You're nothing but a no good spoiled brat!" The man spat.

I recoiled at his contempt and venom. I suppose my dress might have been nice once, but after four and a half days on the street you'd hardly know it. Perhaps I spoke too well to seem as though I were in a position to need work, but it seemed as though times were tough. I'd seen plenty of others who appeared to be newly destitute.

The woman I assumed to be his wife just pursed her lips and remained silent. The man moved forward, stepping around his wife and into my personal space. At this, my discomfort spiked and I backed up.

"I assure you, I'm no runaway." I say quietly, though I have no way to know for sure with the state my memory is in.

"Oh? Then I guess you're just one of the _formerly_ upper class. Trying to take away jobs from decent, hardworking folk to maintain your lavish lifestyle? What, no more silverware to sell?" He kept stepping toward me until he towered right above me.

The woman had scurried to the back room, clearly unwilling to stand up to her husband. Despite my fear and discomfort I couldn't help but wonder what happened to him to evoke this kind of reaction.

I felt almost dizzy from his potent rage and went to make my escape. He seemed about to stop me though and my fear was starting to spike.

"Ah-hem," we both turned to see an older woman standing just inside the door. "Todd, I think you should step away from the girl and take over for you wife in the back room, she can handle customers for the rest of the day."

The man looked ready to argue but with sharp glance the woman silenced him. Huffing, he disappeared through the door his wife had entered.

"Thank you."

"Nonsense, it was all Todd's fault anyway. The damn fool…" The last part was said under her breath and I had to fight to keep my lips from twitching.

"I was thinking of eating a late lunch with Anna today but I can see that she'll be too busy dealing with her husband. Care to join an old woman for tea?"

A little surprised by the sudden change in her mood I could only nod dumbly as she gave me a bright smile and took me by the arm. She relayed to me her name was Penelope Therres and before I knew it she was pulling me into a small bakery.

Along the way she'd told me a story about a young Todd Douglas, whose best friend had made quite the life for himself. Apparently, the wealth went to the best friend's head and poor Todd was cast aside. Later on, after some poor business decisions the man's wealth was gone and he'd gone crawling back to Todd.

"Yes, it was quite unfortunate for Todd in the end though," she said with a shake of her head. "For a short while his old friend, Nathan, worked with Todd and repaired their friendship and trust. Todd completely forgave him and the fool was tricked out of a decent sum and cast aside yet again."

I nodded along and made the appropriate noises. All the while, I was really wondering what this woman could possibly want from me. Once we were sitting together in the bakery, which was closed for the day, I found out.

"So you're looking for work? You don't seem like the type who usually needs it though…" she trailed off. "I know that the country isn't at its best at the moment, but here in London is a bit better off with all the new industry." She gave me an intent stare and I sighed, seeing what she was getting at.

"I'm really not a runaway. Well, I might be, but I can't remember if I am." At her blank stare I continued, "You see, four days ago I woke up on the streets of London…"

So I told her about my confusion, loss of memory, and the time I'd spent looking for work. She seemed a bit skeptical but sympathetic nonetheless. I explained to her that while I spoke English I wasn't sure where in the country I was actually from. By the end of it she seemed unnaturally serious.

"Now are you sure you weren't assaulted in any way? Before all this happened?" I shook my head. Physically I had been remarkably groomed and healthy. Mentally, not so much, but I remained mercifully unmolested throughout nights on the street. "Hmm," she sighed. "I only stay open in the mornings so I can hire you if you're alright with a relatively small pay?"

"Of course!" I replied eagerly. "I'd be grateful for anything, really."

"Wonderful. Unfortunately I don't have anywhere near enough room for you upstairs, but you're welcome to stay down here with some extra blankets tonight. Tomorrow I'll set about contacting an acquaintance of mine who will give you somewhere to spend your evenings and nights."

I gaped at her a little. "Surely that's too much! I've already found somewhere relatively safe to spend the nights and I'm really alright with just the job." I wasn't sure why I was arguing, but it didn't feel right to take advantage of this old woman.

"Don't worry about it. The streets of London are no place for a young girl and I'm happy to help."

"No," I insisted. "I won't impose on you. I'll return tomorrow for work if you just give me a time and once I've saved up enough I'll just rent out a cheap flat."

She heaved a large sigh, clearly a bit annoyed by my behavior. I admit, it wasn't just the fact that I didn't want to take advantage of her. Truthfully I didn't trust her not to report me to the police – I didn't feel like staying in an orphanage. I felt too old to be relying on adults like that. Besides, just imagining living in such a large group of children made me ill at ease.

We spoke some more after that. We went over my wages and what I'd do for her. We even discussed names I could choose, but she clearly didn't believe I'd actually forgotten mine, even if it was the truth.

After that I left, despite her requests otherwise. I wandered to my hidden sleeping space and settled down for the night. It was my best night in London (that I could remember) as I went to sleep with a full stomach and job to support myself with.

And that was how I found myself walking once again to her cozy bakery, still wearing my rumpled dress and with somewhat matted hair.

Once I was in her pastry shop and had answered a few impersonal questions she'd looked me up and down critically and, upon seeing _something_ in my appearance, had nodded and grabbed my elbow in a surprisingly firm grip.

"You'll need to clean yourself up," she'd said. Then she'd whisked me into the back room and up the stairs to her apartment. There, she'd thrust me into a small room with a sink, toilet, and tub. She then threw neatly folded clothes into my arms and shut the door on her way out.

Less than an hour later and I was hard at work in a long navy skirt with a white blouse. I mostly cleaned up before we opened, as I was inexperienced with baking of any sort. They would come in and request something that I would retrieve and then Mrs. Therres would trade it for the assigned price.

Apparently not much baking went on during the hours we were open since the brunt of it was done beforehand. After what seemed like no time at all the last of the customers were gone and the bakery was closed.

"Should I-" my question was cut short when I heard a knock on the door. Mrs. Therres, or Penny, as she kept insisting I call her, went to let the two figures in right away.

I scowled and shot her a betrayed look when I saw that one of the figures was a police officer. Penny led the two in and motioned for them to sit down at one of the small round tables before she dragged me over as well.

Once we were all seated she introduced me, "Alright dear, I know this isn't what you wanted but a girl like you has no place on the streets. Mr. Pratt and Mrs. Cole just want to hear you out and return you to your family if they can. If not, you'll go with Mrs. Cole to her orphanage." She paused and patted my hand reassuringly, "Of course if you end up at the orphanage you'd be welcome to continue working here to save up once you're an adult."

I schooled my features and took a deep breath in through my nose. The police officer was the next to speak, "Mrs. Therres says you've lost your memory. Is that really true? Mind you, it's sinful to lie."

I reigned in my glare and instead remained impassive. "Unfortunately, it really is the truth. I seem to have basic things down but when it comes to details about my life all I receive is a headache for my efforts."

All three of the adults shared a look and I knew they didn't believe me. I sighed and fiddled with my necklace. As I flipped it in my hands I noticed something odd. _There's a name on this! _I wasn't sure if it was my name, but it was as good as any.

"I think my name is Estelle," I said suddenly. When they looked confused I explained, "It's on my necklace and, well, I need a name don't I?"

Penny was the first to respond, "That's a lovely name. French isn't it? Could that be where you're from?"

I thought hard for a moment before responding, "Oui. C'est possible que je suis français, mais je ne suis pas sûre." The language came to me easily, but it didn't feel as though it was my native tongue.

I switched back to English, "When I think about it, I know I can speak French as fluently as I speak English, but it doesn't feel like my first language. I don't think I'm French…"

The police officer spoke up, "Well if you won't tell us where you're from then how do you expect to be reunited with your family. I'm sure they're worried about you." He clearly didn't believe me, but at least he was kind about it.

"Truthfully, I don't think I have a family. And if I did, I don't think I do anymore." As soon as I said it I felt that I was right. I didn't feel sorrow or pain, but the words had more certainty to them.

"Well, I checked the missing persons files at work and you don't match any of the descriptions for missing girls in London. How old are you?" The police officer asked.

"I'm not certain, but I think I'm sixteen." I say casually as I try to ignore their raised eyebrows. In actuality I'm probably only fifteen at the oldest, thirteen at the youngest. By saying I'm older I can be out on my own sooner – I _really_ don't like the idea of living in an orphanage any longer than I have to.

They don't seem to believe me but none of them argue. The police officer turned to the third woman who hadn't spoken. "It looks like she'll be heading back with you then Mrs. Cole. Shall I escort you both back to Wool's so Miss Estelle can settle in?"

"Thank you Robert, I appreciate it." She said with a somewhat stern and curt tone. Turning to Penny she added, "Should the girl wish to continue working I'll send her back to you Monday morning. So long as that's agreeable with you?"

"Of course, and thank you for coming!"

With that I, along with Mrs. Cole and Mr. Pratt, was waved out of the bakery and onto the street. I didn't pay attention to the stiff, but cordial conversation the two adults shared. I was too busy feeling upset about being tricked into staying in an orphanage. I knew that I should be glad to have somewhere to stay sleep, as well as a means of obtaining meals, but there were many things to dread as well.

I could feel emotions for one. I hadn't mentioned that to Penny, but when I woke up in London and since then I'd been extremely aware of the emotions around me. I knew that would sound crazy to others but I was certain my weird empathy wasn't a delusion. In fact, I was almost certain I'd always had it since I had no trouble interpreting what I felt or blocking it to some extent on a near constant basis.

My first night had been too hectic to control it, but the ability was familiar and I used it without conscious thought for the most part. The only issue was that large crowds made blocking much harder. Living with a bunch of emotional children was sure to be irritating. Not that I didn't like children, I just hated headaches and was sure living someplace with so many others around would be painful.

I was abruptly brought back from my thoughts when I realized the officer was gone and I was standing before Mrs. Cole in what I assumed was her office.

"Since you insist on not answering questions your file will just have to remain mostly blank. Your birthday will be marked down as today, meaning that in exactly two years on June first you will be able to leave and live as you see fit. Until that time you will be expected to listen to me and anyone else who works or volunteers here. I expect respect at all times. If you choose to continue working for Mrs. Therres, and I strongly encourage you to do so, you will still have chores to complete here. You will wear the standard uniform and be in bed by nine o'clock every evening. Am I clear?"

I was a bit overwhelmed but nodded all the same. "Good. I will give you a week to either tell me the truth or make up a last name for your file. Any questions?"

"What sort of chores will I be expected to do and how often?" There, that seemed like a question she couldn't get angry over. The woman was much harsher than I'd expected her to be, though I couldn't help but admire her efficiency.

"Mostly watching and minding the younger children. We have very few older orphans and even fewer older girls. The boys tend to bully and slack off when assigned to those jobs. You'll also be expected to take a turn doing laundry with the other teenage girls, I believe they are in charge of Thursdays. Of course, all this will be afternoons only if you choose to work at the bakery."

I nodded again.

"Your room will be upstairs on the left. The door number is six. There is a bathroom at the end of the hall and towels in the closet next to it. I will have your roommate drop off a uniform while you bathe. After that you may rest in your room until dinner at five. You may go," she dismissed me and started shuffling through some papers on her desk.

I didn't want to aggravate her so soon and so I exited quietly and made my way upstairs. On my way up I glanced through the window to see children in the fenced in backyard. There were a little less than two dozen, ranging from roughly four to twelve. The few older kids outside – of which I only counted eight – were scattered about watching the kids, reading, or just lounging together.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs and reached out with my senses. I felt mostly happiness or calm. Well, at least I knew life here couldn't be so bad. Blocking myself off again I went straight up to take a towel before entering the bathroom and stripping down.

I wondered briefly about my old life once again after seeing the tub and feeling the unheated water. Somehow it seemed foreign to sit in a tub. It was even stranger to not have hot water. I shrugged it off; perhaps it was just because it was a somewhat poor orphanage and as such would be worst off than most places.

I washed quickly and efficiently, eager to get clean. No matter how much I was prepared to live on my own, I couldn't deny it was satisfying to bath completely. Before I'd just found public buildings with facilities open to everyone. The soap I'd found in the towel closet wasn't high quality but it got the job done. Soon I was drying off and wrapping the towel around myself.

When I pulled the door open slightly I saw the hall was empty and my new uniform was folded on the ground. I changed and ran my fingers through my long hair before picking up my things and walking to room six.

"So you're my new roommate!" Was the somewhat shrill welcome I received upon entering the room.

I glanced around to see that there were two small beds and an old wardrobe I assumed we were to share. The walls were a dull white and the sheets were a light gray. Overall, it seemed very bland and possibly even depressing.

"My name's Estelle, it's a pleasure to meet you," I said this with a polite smile as I took in the girl's appearance. She had curly blond hair and light blue eyes just a bit too far apart. Her skin was pasty and pale, though her complexion was relatively clear. My first impression was that she was pleasant, if a bit dim, and at least two years older than I.

"I'm Bethany Crawford. Y'know, you don't look like the average street rat at all!" She had gotten up from her bed and stood close to examine me. "You're all pretty and polite too. Were you rich before coming here?"

"I – er, I'm not actually sure myself. You see, I've lost all my memories." She stared at me in confusion for a moment before she switched back over to excitement.

"That must be so exciting," she cried. "Oh, I wonder if you have some sort of rich fiancé who's going to come searching for you… Or maybe you have famous parents who are frantically trying to find you!"

She continued on in this vein as I tuned her out. I caught phrases like 'dreadfully romantic' and 'tragic' as I tried to find an opening to speak. Eventually I cut her off.

"Where do I put my towel and clothes?" I asked as I set them down on my bed and slipped off the shoes I had worn for the past four days.

"We have a basket out in the hall for the girls on this floor. Our age group does laundry on Thursdays and Sundays, but we take turns so half of us pick one day and half the other." She looked me up and down. "I gave you my spare uniform for now but I can see it's much too big for you. We keep the uniforms up in the attic so I'll fetch you your assigned clothes after dinner. I'm pretty sure we have some things in your size."

"That would be great, thanks."

"Unfortunately I don't think we have any stockings or shoes so you'll just have to stick with the shoes you had on before until someone goes shopping."

"It's alright," I say. The shoes I had were in pretty good condition, even if they earned some odd looks. They were black and had a very slight heel. They seemed to be leather and were closer to short boots than the shoes that Bethany had by her bed. "I'm actually quite fond of them."

She shrugs and waits for me to take my clothes to the laundry basket. When I return she's on her bed facing mine. "Would you like to hear about the orphanage?" She asks.

"Sure," I say, before sitting down on my own bed.

"Alright, I'm sure you've met Mrs. Cole. Fortunately she's not so bad so long as you don't get into any trouble. Mostly, she's just really strict. You won't even see her often, she's much too busy running the place and drinking whiskey." I wrinkled my nose at that.

"Well, as for the rest…" Bethany hummed in thought, "There are mostly old women who work here, Mr. Cole died two years ago, you should be grateful you didn't have to meet the bastard – 'Scuse me for the language – There aren't many others worth mentioning, they just do their jobs.

"I've been 'ere since I was seven and I'm the third oldest, I turn seventeen in August. Richard Dale and Christopher Watkins are the oldest, both seventeen, Watkins will be turned free in November and Dale is stuck with us 'till March. I don't like Dale, but Christopher and I want to get married in a year!" She said the last part in a dramatic whisper.

"Really?" I asked. "Are you going to leave with him?"

"No, I'll have to wait – but we've got it all planned out! He's going to go out on his own and work and save money so that once I'm of age we can be properly married. Of course, I'll have to work too, but that's just the way it is when you come from places like these." The last was said with a sorrowful glance around the room and at once I knew she was referring to the orphanage.

"That's lovely," I say. "I'm sure you two will be very happy together." I didn't really know that, but it was worth it to feel her excitement once again permeate the drab room.

"Thank you! I s'pose I should tell you the rest you should know about Wool's. No doubt I'll tell you all about Christopher later; I really can't keep 'im off my mind for long." I smiled at her dreamy expression. After a dramatic sigh she shook herself out of it and continued her chatter.

"As for the girls I'm the oldest. Helen's fifteen sand she shares the room with Nancy, who's only thirteen. So you and Nancy are about the same age-"

"Actually," I interrupt. "I'm sixteen. I may have forgotten my memories but I'm pretty sure that's right." The waves of disbelief that followed were somewhat insulting, but I just continued to smile politely.

"I guess I can't blame you for wanting to get out of here sooner. And seeing your looks I've no doubt you'll find a proper husband right away. Anyway," she said, "The rest of the girls are eleven or under so we three just stick together. Since it's summer and we don't have lessons we're mostly free. We only really have to watch the children during their outside break and do simple chores.

"The cleaning's not so bad because even the boys are expected to help and there are plenty more of them than us. Thanks to you, I was given the afternoon off to help you settle in – so I didn't have to clean or mind the kids today!"

She went on to explain what times meals were, when we were expected to get up, how often certain chores were expected to be done, and slipped in mentions of _Christopher_ wherever she could. I followed along as best as I was able, all the while wishing she would finish so I could nap.

"Ah," she gasped. "I've almost made us late for dinner! Hurry up or we won't get anything at all." With that she scrambled from her bed and picked a ribbon off her pillow. As she hastily pulled her curls back I slipped my shoes back on and straightened my gray skirt. Bethany was right, it was much too big. The pale gray blouse was a bit better, since it was tucked in, but it was by no means flattering.

I adjust the uniform once last time before following Bethany downstairs. I'm actually famished, even though Penny fed me while I was at the bakery. Soon enough we pass into the dining room.

The room itself is fairly large, with rickety tables and chairs placed haphazardly. "Estelle? Come this way, we have to grab trays and get food from the kitchen."

I nod and follow her to the line of orphans going through the door to what I assume is the kitchen. We only have to wait a few minutes before one of the women in the kitchen is placing plates and glasses of water onto our trays. We then go through another door to return to the dining room and sit down.

The meal is a rather simple, but not disgusting shepherd's pie. Roughly two minutes in Bethany and I are joined by two other girls.

The first girl is tall and willowy. Her hair is a light brown and pulled back in a bun that looks too tight to be comfortable. She has a somewhat long, straight nose and dark eyes. The other has grey eyes and medium brown hair in a braid that reaches her waist. She's taller than I am, but no where near the first girl's height.

"You must be the new girl. I'm Helen Sullivan and this is Nancy Wheeler," she said gesturing to the girl beside her as they say down.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Estelle."

"No last name?" Asks Nancy. Helen glares at her and hisses something like 'Don't be rude!' but I just laugh.

"No, no last name. I think I was in some sort of accident because I can't remember my past before a few days ago." I say this and release my block to see if they believe me. The older one doesn't, but Nancy accepts it easily.

"That must be so difficult for you!" She cries and I just give her a strained smile. After that we chat about meaningless things. I mostly listen as they gossip about others in the orphanage. Eventually, my attention drifts away until I find myself staring into the far corner of the room.

I ignore all the other orphans in the room and lock eyes with a young boy. He's staring hard at me, almost glaring, so I reach out to feel his emotions. Once I lock on to his signature all I feel is suspicion, confusion, and… eagerness? I don't have time to dwell on it because he recoils from my gentle probing and stares at me in shock.

I freeze. Did he just… feel me examine his emotions? Is that even possible?


End file.
